


Take a Chance, Just Feed Me

by yeah_alright



Category: Best Song Ever - One Direction (Music Video), One Direction (Band)
Genre: !!!, Blow Jobs, M/M, My First Smut, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, always in my heart marcel the marketing guy, my first fic actually, not just smut though!, of course it's about Marcel, there's cuteness and fondness and playfulness too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeah_alright/pseuds/yeah_alright
Summary: He’s in the midst of marveling over how Harry can be simultaneously dorky and hot, how he can just be so… much... of everything at all times, when–“Cute as a button, every single one of you!”Oh no.Just like that, Louis loses the battle against his own smile. The crinkles around his eyes deepen and spread out in a fan as his bottom lip breaks free from the grip of his teeth.He’s done for.Louis needs some time alone with Marcel, and he’s hoping Harry will play along.





	Take a Chance, Just Feed Me

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote a fic. I can't believe the first fic I wrote is half smut. I can absolutely believe it's about Marcel. What was meant to be an entry into a short fic fest quickly ballooned to nearly twice the word limit for that, so here we are.
> 
> This has probably been an inevitability since the day I fell down the Larry/One Direction spiral three years ago. But it would never have happened without the inspiration and enabling of my immensely talented friends whose work I've been blessed to read and flail over, and especially not without the unending encouragement and generosity and wisdom and support of Alpha beta [disgruntledkittenface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface/pseuds/disgruntledkittenface), who makes me a better writer and a better friend, and [abrighteryellow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrighteryellow/pseuds/abrighteryellow), who was there to gently fan my fic-writing flame when it first sparked. Your cheerleading and comments and edits and fic wisdom as I wrote this have been invaluable and I love and appreciate you both so much. Any remaining mistakes are mine alone. 
> 
> Love and thanks also to [crinkle-eyed-boo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KimmieRocks/pseuds/crinkle-eyed-boo) for her enthusiasm and comments on draft number one. <3
> 
> The title is from the song "Feed Me (Git It)" from _Little Shop of Horrors._
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Louis is biting his bottom lip. He’s trying to suppress the smile that threatens to take over his face every time he watches Harry as Marcel.

He’s failing.  

He's basically pulled his entire bottom lip over the edge of his teeth, but there's no suppressing this particular smile. Not completely. Not while he’s watching this particular boy.

Harry as Harry is hard enough not to smile at. Harry as Marcel the Marketing Guy requires a whole other level of self-control.

And Louis is finding that, as in a few other contexts, he’s...well...a little lacking in that where Harry Styles is concerned.

Louis just can’t resist. He can’t resist watching Marcel. Staring at him, really. Can’t pull his eyes away. Can’t put his smile away.

He’s so fuckin’ adorable. Those thick, giant, squared glasses with tape 'round the middle. His elevated swoop of side-parted hair. The utterly reasonable high-waisted dark brown trousers. That fully buttoned white-collared shirt and clumsily square-knotted necktie. The fucking sweater vest, with its pattern of tiny brown squares and wide grandpa-style beige trim and tortoise shell buttons.

Honestly. Beyond adorable.  

But Marcel’s not _just_ adorable – or whatever word should really exist to describe people who are more than adorable – because he isn’t just an outfit and accessories. He isn’t just a look – although it is a _look._ There’s a whole Marcel _vibe_ that elevates the appearance, makes it real _._ Harry’s brought him to life. He’s infused him with a mix of earnestness and unflappable enthusiasm, expressed with a wonderfully animated face, cartoonish mannerisms, and a slightly strained voice with a perfectly sweet American accent. And just an absolutely beaming smile. One that would probably come across as goofy if it weren’t lighting up such a beautiful, honest face.

Marcel is something special, really.

Louis is smitten.

And because Marcel is Harry Styles, Marcel is also sexy as hell. Somehow.

Louis is sprung.

He’s in the midst of marveling over how Harry can be simultaneously dorky _and_ hot, how he can just be so… _much..._ of everything at all times, when–

“Cute as a _bu_ tton, every single _one_ of you!”

_Oh no._

Just like that, Louis loses the battle against his smile. The crinkles around his eyes deepen and spread out in a fan as his bottom lip breaks free from the grip of his teeth.

He’s done for.

And everyone else in the room can probably see it. For all he knows, they’re all talking about it right now – about how shit he is at trying to hide his fond, how gone he is for his boy even when he’s basically in Seymour Krelborn fancy dress – while Louis just looks on, oblivious to everyone but Marcel. Bloody hell. He’s so... fuck. He’s so _distracting._

All this watching and staring and smiling at Marcel these past few days has resulted in _thoughts._ Thoughts Louis certainly hadn’t expected when he’d first seen Harry in his Marcel costume. Definitely hadn't expected when he first heard him trying out his American accent and significantly higher-pitched voice.

Louis had fallen for Marcel straight away, to be sure. But in the way you fall for a puppy the second it bounds towards you, tail wagging and tongue out.

The...intrigue, you might call it, came a bit more slowly. Crept in gradually enough that Louis can’t really pinpoint the moment it took over. Can’t really identify exactly when his staring went from being motivated by wanting to soak up every ounce of this adorable creature – his heart swelling as he fought against the puppy love-fueled smile – to being essentially a compulsion, an inability to look away – his cock swelling as he fights against the hormone-fueled urge to run onto set and bend Marcel over Jonny and Harvey's desk.

Fuck. Yeah. That. When did _that_ happen? _How?_

Harry Styles is how it happened. It’s at once not at all an explanation and also the only explanation.

However inexplicable, it’s the reason Louis had raced off set and back to wardrobe and makeup to get his costume off and prosthetics removed the second he had wrapped his Jonny the Studio Exec scenes earlier in the day. The reason why, while he was hurriedly changing so he could get back to set, he had caught himself humming quietly to the vision replaying in his mind of Marcel shaking his hips and moving his hands along to Leroy’s choreography, _“I want to see the way you moooove for me, baby…”_

Why he had raced _back_ to set without bothering to comb his hair or put on more than a plain white t-shirt, not even allowing himself a quick wank first – a feat considering how much he’d enjoyed indulging in a secret (and quite speedy) Marcel-fueled solo session in this very dressing room the day before. He hadn’t been able to resist yesterday.

Today there's no time for that. Today he wants more than that. Although Louis is done filming for the day, Harry isn’t. He’s still Marcel. And Louis had needed to get back to set while Marcel was still around.

He’s got a question for Harry. About an itch only Marcel can scratch.

~~~

“Cut!”

Ben’s voice reaches across the room and smacks Louis out of his daze.

_Fucking finally._

Louis takes a few steps back, trying to blend into the sudden rush of crew members scurrying about, re-setting for the next shot.

To Louis’ dismay, Harry doesn’t immediately walk off the set. Instead he’s surrounded by members of the wardrobe team smoothing his tie and vest and fidgeting with his trousers. Right. He’s not quite done for the day, then. It hadn’t occurred to Louis in the midst of his daydreaming that, just as he had done yesterday, Harry would have to film a few extras – for the credits, behind the scenes stuff, little snippets for coverage – before he was free.

Oh well, Louis can wait. At least it gives him more time to watch Marcel. More time to anticipate. To visualize. To want.

“I got no _pants_ on...”

Before Harry, Louis had never known the sensation of unexpectedly laughing at the exact moment his cock twitched. He still isn’t used it.

Louis shakes his head slightly with the now familiar combination of disbelief and gratitude and leans against the wall to wait for Harry to be done shooting and for Marcel to finally be available.

~~~

“Oi! Haz!” Louis whispers from where he had strategically placed himself while Harry was being dismissed for the day. He’s standing in a dimly lit part of the space between the set and the hall Harry has to walk down to get back to the dressing rooms.

Harry furrows his brows as he looks to see where the voice is coming from. His confused expression immediately gives way to a smile when his eyes reach Louis and he walks directly over to him.

The sight of sweet, guileless Marcel approaching him with Harry’s sure, steady gait makes Louis’ heart clench, sending a rush of blood straight to his cock.

“Lou! I didn’t realize you were waiting for me to finish! Gimme a few minutes to get out of this, and we can head ho–”

“No, no, hold on,” Louis interrupts him.

“What? Why? What’s up?”

Harry’s deep voice coming from Marcel’s face is too much for Louis, and he forgets the well-thought out Marcel role-playing pitch he was going to give Harry. He’s been watching him too closely, thinking about it too much. And somehow he still isn't properly prepared for this particular combination of man.

“I just...think Marcel is...a bit sexy, yeah?”

Harry’s eyebrows jump up but he doesn’t respond. He just looks expectantly at Louis.

“So, yeah, I thought, maybe, ehm, we could...maybe you might, uh...just...don’t change out of this yet?”

Louis looks up hopefully as he finishes stumbling through his bungled proposition, trying to set his eyes to the perfect level of pleading and enticing but feeling sure he just looks pitiful.

Harry’s face softens and he smiles at Louis, maintaining the intense eye contact that Louis has come to expect but still not quite gotten used to. As Louis waits to learn whether Harry is actually going to speak words in response, his mind starts to race, trying to recall the best of the reasons he’d conjured earlier for why Harry should _at least_ want to get a good snog in as Marcel.

“So, ehm...” Louis manages to re-start, hoping if he just keeps forcing sounds out of his gob he’ll eventually remember what he had planned to say. “What’dya reckon? I mean, could we...would you...ehh…Up for it, Harold?”

“Absolutely.”

Harry’s voice is sure and solid and travels directly from Louis' ears to his dick.

Louis bites his bottom lip again, just a bit at the far right side. This time he's not trying to suppress a smile. He didn't even bite his lip on purpose. It just kind of happened.

He's so fucking primed.

“ _Really?”_ he responds. A bit too eagerly, perhaps, but fuck it. He wants this. He wants Harry. Right now. Like this.

“Yeah, sounds fun.” Harry replies, infusing his voice with a touch of Marcel’s higher pitch and nodding with a bit of Marcel’s enthusiasm. “You didn’t think I’d be up for it?”

“I just didn’t want to assume? Didn’t know if you thought Marcel was just some silly character or summat.”

Harry nods slightly. “I mean, I guess I kind of did at first. But, like, once I was doing him for a while…”

Anyone other than Harry uttering the phrase “doing him for a while” would have had the piss taken out of him immediately and thoroughly. (Liam wouldn’t have gotten another word out, maybe for the rest of the day.) But it’s Harry, so Louis just nods along, listening attentively.

“…I don’t know. I just started to _like_ him, you know?”

Louis doesn’t exactly, not in the way Harry’s describing. Jonny is fun to play, but he’s ridiculous. Not someone he'd call likable. But Louis certainly likes Marcel, so his response is genuine. “Yeah, Haz.”

“Plus, I could tell _you_ liked him.”

“Me?”

“Honestly, Lou. You think I didn’t notice you watching me every time I was filming a Marcel scene?”

Always so obvious.

“Fuck. Sorry, Hazza. Didn’t mean to make you self-conscious.”

“No, no. You didn’t, Lou. Not at all. I loved it, actually. It made me love Marcel, really. Seeing the way you looked at him. Feeling how he was, like, affecting you.”  

“Well,” Louis responds, pulling Harry’s tie out from under his sweater vest. “Good thing Marcel’s still here then, eh?”

Harry looks down at the tie and then up at Louis, smiling brightly.

“You ready?” Louis asks.

“Yeah alright,” Harry replies, before leaning slowly into Louis and whispering directly into his ear, his lips just barely brushing Louis’ skin, “but you have to do the Jonny voice.”

Louis laughs at the unexpected request, then cocks his eyebrow and tilts his head slightly, staring Harry straight in the eyes, and he puts on the gravelly American voice. “You mean this one, kid?”

Harry responds with a cartoonish gulp and collar pull, nodding emphatically, but his “mmm, that one” sounds more like Harry than Marcel.

“What was that?” Louis answers back as Jonny, leaning in close. “I couldn’t quite hear you, _Marcel.”_

“Oh, uh, I mean...unn, yeah, yes! Thaat onnnne!”

Louis nods sternly at Harry, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his lips up. He looks around to ensure no bystanders are about and, seeing no one, grabs Harry by the sweater vest and pulls him into the empty room he’d scouted out earlier, shutting the door behind them.  

It’s just a supply closet, but it’ll do. They’ve gotten quite used to non-traditional hook-up spots over the past few years. And it has the one feature they really need, anyway: a locking door. Louis clicks it securely in place and turns back around to find Harry staring at him, loosening Marcel’s tie.

He inhales sharply at the sight, instinctively drawing his hand up and laying his palm flat across his chest as he walks the few steps over to him. As soon as he reaches Harry, he undoes the top button of Marcel’s vest, then slowly moves down the row. He makes quicker work of the shirt’s buttons, anxious to get his hands on what’s underneath.

Louis’ hands and eyes rove slowly and purposefully around Harry’s chest and stomach, pushing the shirt and vest open to give himself more access but careful not to slide them off Harry’s shoulders.

His right hand eventually makes its way to Harry’s waistband, and he teases his index finger outward along the top until he reaches the relatively new tattoo and gently traces the words.  

“Might as well…”

He smiles and returns his gaze to Harry’s eyes, which shine back at him more brightly than should be possible.

After allowing his hands a few seconds longer to caress Harry’s sides and softly draw small circles around each and every nipple with his fingertips, his eyes following along with great interest, Louis grabs Marcel’s dangling tie and gives it two light tugs as he again lifts his eyes to meet Harry’s.

“Off, please.”

In his hurry to raise the tie up over his head, Harry pulls Marcel’s glasses off with it, sending them clattering to the floor. He whimpers loudly and furrows his brow, dramatically turning his head and looking worriedly down at them as his arms remain frozen, holding the tie above his head.

Louis reaches out and turns Harry’s face back towards him, guiding Harry’s chin with his thumb and index finger. “I got ’em, kid,” he reassures him, squatting down to pick up the glasses. He gets onto his knees to better lean over to where they’ve fallen and picks them up just as Harry drops the tie to the floor. Louis hands the glasses up to Harry, instructing him to put them back on.

“Oh, thaaank you!” Harry exhales hot breath onto one lens and then the other and wipes each one with a corner of Marcel’s sweater vest. His face twists into a frown as he realizes all his effort has yielded is smudged lenses. He mutters a soft “oh well” to himself as he puts the glasses back on anyway, squinting through the hazy lenses as his eyes struggle to adjust.

Louis just stares quietly up at Harry through the whole bit, gazing fondly. Harry looks down and catches Louis’ eyes. He shrugs and squeaks out a giggly “Oops!”

Louis raises an eyebrow and lowers his gaze to what’s directly in front of him. “Hi” he huffs out as he pulls down the zipper on Marcel’s slacks and reaches his hand in.

Louis is well versed in the magnitude of Harry's cock. He's had ample opportunities to size it relative to his own internal measuring devices. But something about pulling this dick he knows so well out of Marcel's trousers has him marveling at God's generosity as if he's handling it for the first time.

“Jesus.”

It’s not clear to Louis whether the gruffness of that word escaping his mouth was the result of his trying to stay in character or an effect of feeling the weight of Harry in his hand.

He looks up from where he’s kneeling and is greeted by Marcel staring back down at him through his now slightly crooked and smudged glasses, his coiffed hair still perfectly in place and his lush pink lips stretched into a huge grin. Louis takes a moment to appreciate the juxtaposition of that sweet, dorky face and the tattoo-strewn, lithe but sculpted torso framed by loosely hanging layers of cotton and wool blend.

Apparently it’s a longer moment than he realizes because Harry breaks his appreciative concentration with a high-pitched throat-clearing sound. Louis turns his eyes back to Harry’s, which dart pointedly down at his fully erect cock in Louis’ hand. Harry wiggles his eyebrows at Louis expectantly and Louis can’t quite wrap his mind around how he managed to land this beautiful dork with this beautiful dick.

Louis drops his gaze and looks at his handful. It seems he had begun absent-mindedly stroking it as he stared up the length of Harry, and the head is already glistening with the precum he’d begun spreading around without noticing.

“Oh. Right. Apologies, Marcel,” Louis offers in Jonny’s gruff American accent. “It seems I got a little distracted...admiring you.”

The flustered giggle Harry offers back is perfectly Marcel, but the accompanying smirk is unmistakably Harry.

That mix of shyness and smugness is enough to send the rest of Louis’ blood straight to his already hardening cock, and it presses mercilessly against his jeans.

“Right then. Let's see what we can do here.” He undoes the top button of Marcel’s slacks and yanks them down to Harry’s ankles. Harry’s stiff cock bounces at the jerky movement, and Louis’ eyes follow it.

“Eaaaasy big fella.”

Louis looks seriously up at Harry and huffs, “Marcel! My, my, my. This is quite a monster.”

Harry giggles sweetly as Louis lowers his eyes back to the task in hand. He licks his palms and grips Harry's marketing guy firmly, twisting slowly up and down Harry’s shaft a few times, enveloping it fully with the warmth of his expert hands. He revels in how solid Harry’s cock has already become in response to his proposal and his touch. Impatient for more, Louis moves his left hand to grab Harry’s thigh as he ducks down to lick and gently suck on Harry’s balls, his right hand maintaining a steady rhythm while pulling Harry’s cock up a bit to give his mouth room to work.

Harry’s groan is decidedly deeper than Marcel’s would be, but Louis graciously lets it go when he releases his balls from his mouth and looks up to see Harry’s eyes close and his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips. Too beautiful to chide in this particular moment.

But just because Harry broke character for a second doesn’t mean Louis is ready to.

“So, Marcel. How’s _this_ choreography?”   

Harry opens his eyes and looks down at Louis as Marcel’s smile returns to his face.

“Ohh...uhh, well…” Harry fumbles his words as Louis takes the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth at the same time he slowly and softly runs his fingertips down the sensitive skin of Harry’s inner thigh, teasing lightly before moving to caress Harry’s outer thigh, slowly running his palm up his taut muscles to land on his small, perfectly-shaped love handle, giving it a squeeze.

Still waiting for Harry to finish his answer, Louis lets the head of his cock slip out of his mouth and, holding the base steady, moves to press his tongue to the underside of Harry’s shaft. He licks up towards the tip, increasing the pressure when his tongue dips into the seam of Harry’s head. He swirls his tongue around the head before enclosing his lips flush around his crown.

Harry continues with a gulp, “...it’s, unn, _very_ impressive, Mr.–”

An abrupt hiss swallows the rest of his sentence as Louis sucks forcefully on his head and resumes his well-practiced stroking.

Satisfied by the hiss he’d elicited, Louis smiles slightly as he releases Harry’s cock from his mouth once again and hovers above it. He lifts his eyes to meet Harry’s and holds his gaze as he parts his lips, allowing the precum he’d collected to slide out of his mouth onto Harry’s cock. Harry’s eyebrows jump and his mouth opens almost imperceptibly. Louis’ smile quirks up further as he spreads the precum around Harry’s shaft, his stroke speeding up a bit as his hand slides more easily. He continues watching Harry as Harry licks his bottom lip and gently sucks it in between his teeth, his eyes widening as they break from Louis’ eyes to follow his hand’s strokes.

Louis tightens his grip slightly and Harry leans his head back and moans, impressing Louis with how he manages in this moment to infuse his naturally deep tone with a bit of Marcel’s higher pitch. Louis arches an eyebrow and moves his face back a few inches, his right hand maintaining its steady rhythm, his left releasing its grip on Harry’s love handle to gently explore the soft skin of his hip and his small, pert arse.

“Now now Marcel, no need for formalities like ‘Mister.’ Your cock’s about to go down my throat. Please. Call me Jonny.”

Harry croaks out a laugh. A full, explosive Harry bark. He looks down at Louis, dimple on full display. His shoulders are shaking a bit from the laughter and his eyes are shining.

Louis doesn’t break character, even as he’s dying to laugh along with him.

“Oh, you think this is funny, young man?” He manages to keep his face locked in a stern expression, despite Harry’s smile making it nearly impossible.  

“N-no, no!” Harry snaps back into Marcel, shifting his eyes frantically and fixing his mouth into a desperate grimace. “hnnghgh...I just…N-Not funny at all sir…”

Louis stops his hand suddenly for the first time since he started stroking Harry, and looks up at him, eyebrow arched.

“Uh, unn, I mean, not funny at all, _Jonny.”_

“Good boy.” Louis begins stroking Harry again, maintaining an intense stare. Harry gulps, all hints of a smile officially gone from his lust-blown eyes, his pupils huge and fuzzy.

Louis can’t tell if it’s Harry playing Marcel or just Harry being truly in the moment that makes him respond to Louis’ gruffness and undivided attention with a mix of urgency and nervous energy. But whether it’s Marcel or Harry or a combination of the two, it’s got Louis’ cock straining desperately against his pants and his throat itching to receive Harry’s.

He slows the pace of his right hand a bit, but keeps his grip firm.

“Now then,” he huffs. “Where was I?”

“Um, unnn, I… I think you said you were...unn, going to…”

“Oh, that’s right,” Louis’s grizzled voice jumps in as Harry’s Marcel voice trembles and trails off.

Not able to wait any longer, Louis opens his mouth widely and surges forward, taking most of Harry’s sizable cock in his mouth in one move.

He wraps his lips around Harry's considerable girth and eagerly pumps his head up and down his shaft, his right hand moving along just below his lips, his tongue flush against the underside of Harry’s cock, humming along approvingly to Harry's deep moans.

Louis takes Harry’s balls into his left hand and squeezes gently. Harry’s moans grow louder as Louis increases his momentum up and down Harry’s shaft, taking in slightly more of him with each forward movement.

When Louis recognizes the frantic tone starting to color Harry’s groans, he moves his hands to grasp Harry’s sides just below his waist, squeezing tightly right as the tip of Harry’s cock reaches the back of his throat. He swallows hungrily, humming as he feels Harry’s head dip down into his throat. Harry gasps, which spurs Louis on and he swallows Harry down further just after moving one hand back to firmly cup Harry’s balls.

Harry cries out as he comes, coating Louis’ throat as he pulses inside it. His hands reach down to grasp Louis’ head, but he doesn’t push. Louis couldn’t take Harry any deeper if they both tried.

Instead, he just grips fistfuls of Louis’ hair as he litters the thick air of the small room with the “fuck”s and groans of his climax, his head thrown back.

Louis moves his hands to the back of Harry’s thighs. He runs his fingers firmly up and down, careful not to tickle Harry as he soothes him through the final shudders of his orgasm, swallowing every bit of what Harry unloads with enthusiastic groans of his own.

As he finally pulls back from Harry, Louis allows his tongue to gently trail along the underside of his cock. Harry exhales loudly with a final shudder and drops to his knees, joining Louis on the floor, their faces inches apart.

Louis smiles softly and parts his lips to say something, but Harry surges forward and captures his lips fully in a hungry, passionate kiss. Louis’ cock throbs at the thought of Harry tasting himself on Louis’ tongue. He grips Harry’s arse firmly as their tongues slide together desperately, occasionally pulling back to teasingly lick and nip at each others’ lips. Harry’s right hand cups Louis’ face as his left grasps the small of Louis' back, pulling their bodies together, Louis’ bulge pressing into Harry’s thigh.  

After a few minutes of increasingly messy kisses and deepening breaths, Harry retakes control, steadily slowing them down. He gently bites Louis’ bottom lip and presses one last firm and lush kiss onto Louis’ swollen, wet lips before finally pulling back.

Harry beams a smile at Louis, his dimple plunging into his cheek. Louis returns his smile and leans in to place a light kiss on the tip of Harry’s nose.

He looks down and tugs at Marcel’s sweater vest. “I think we’re going to have to take this home with us to keep.” His own voice is back, though a bit raspier than normal.

Harry laughs softly and nods. “No argument here. I might never wear anything else, like, ever again.”

Louis giggles as he returns his gaze to Harry’s bright green eyes. He watches Harry’s smile broaden to an almost comically wide grin and braces himself for whatever bad joke Harry is readying.

“That was alright for you, then?” Louis smirks at him.

“Mmmm,” Harry responds without breaking his smile.

Before Louis can say anything else, Harry moves his right hand from where it had been resting gently just above the curve of Louis’ arse and palms the bulge in Louis’ crotch, causing Louis’ eyebrows to jump in unison with Harry’s.

“Right,” Harry says, a hint of manic glee creeping into his tone as he squeezes Louis through his jeans. “How abouuut  _THIS onnnnnnne?!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope it brought you even a fraction of the delight it brought me to write it.
> 
> If you're so inclined, the tumblr post is [here](http://uhohmorshedios.tumblr.com/post/181161859940). <3


End file.
